


Remnants

by dovelette



Category: Seirei no Moribito | Guardian of the Sacred Spirit
Genre: Angst, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Female Domination, Forced Ejaculation, Forced Eye Contact, Forced Orgasm, Herbalism, Historical Fantasy, Humiliation, Japanese Culture, Loss of Virginity, Men Crying, Mental Anguish, Mind Control, Non-Consensual Touching, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rape, Rating: M, Sobbing, Strong Woman/Weak Man, Torture, Unrequited Love, Virginity, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-10 15:10:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2029752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dovelette/pseuds/dovelette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Preparing to cross the Aoigiri Mountain Range, Balsa and Tanda’s plans are disrupted by the appearance of an assassin bent on destroying his abhorred nemesis in a way most cruel. A Yakue curse consumes the Kanbal woman with an uncontrollable feral desire that may tarnish the very one whom she cherishes most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What Secrets Remain

**Author's Note:**

> This idea struck once I completed the series, one of which I highly recommend. I find Tanda's unrequited adoration for Balsa to be excruciatingly beautiful yet tragic and so, this fic explores that dynamic under unsavory circumstances. Please continue to the next chapter & tell me what you think!

Charred embers crackled slowly while the moon waxed golden and bright overhead as two figures huddled close about a fireplace despite the muggy heat of late autumn. Thick air spun with the purr of cicadas. The jeweled insects hummed contentedly, buried deep into the fibers of a juniper thicket which surrounded an abandoned watermill that the pair had fashioned into a meager refuge. The implementation was a success; the guise of a single mother tending to the needs of her fragile son a typical sight due to the casualties of warfare during the late Edo period.

Avoidance of the imperial mercenary squadron seeking the crown prince was of utmost importance. Thus, Chagum had been sent to stay with the famed supply-runner Tōya and his orphaned colleague Saya until Tanda and the spear-wielder could ready their packs. Crossing the Aoigiri Mountains would prove to be a difficult task. As the body-guard made last minute preparations, she contemplated the severity of hiking through precarious foothills and chasms with a wearied child in tow. Shaking her head, the brawny woman solidified her resolve. No, the prince would make the trek. He must. No other option presented itself against the oppressive hunters of the New Yogo Empire who were hot on their trail in pursuit.

Purple hues danced across auburn irises as Balsa sighed, the warrior gazing unseeingly into dying flames which licked the basin of a large iron pot. Meanwhile, the herbalist casually stirred a vat of buckwheat porridge; attention torn from the mixture he was tending once he noticed his companion’s chagrin.

“What’s troubling you?” Tone light and eyes warm, Tanda leaned forward knowingly, “Normally you don’t look so glum.” To this observation, a flicker of their nostalgic camaraderie eased her dour countenance,

“Ah, Tanda you know me so well.” He chuckled in response, happily dicing a sprig of thyme on a plank of raised wood which currently served as the duo’s bench,

“I ought to. We’ve known one another for nearly twenty years after all.”

“Has it really been so long?” Balsa mused, occupying lambent thoughts onto her spear, hoisting the weapon from the earth to tighten its loosening hinges. The sage-apprentice merely nodded, sprinkling the crushed perennial into the bubbling concoction before tucking the herb back into his sash.

A cool breeze filtered through the valley, causing the long tail of the Kanbal woman’s hair to banter in the wind and sweep across the slope of her pale neck. With a rush, a spell bewitched Tanda. His eyes immediately drooped down from their focus on his comrade to fix upon a set of bowls situated besides a leather pouch. All the medicinal properties of his assorted plants could not cure the herbalist from the disease prevailing the core of his being. Hushing his mind proved futile for the patient man was unable to eradicate the glimpse of even such a small portion of battle-scarred skin from memory. The heart beneath his composed chest pounded incessantly, having longed for her affection decades prior. After momentary stillness, he broke the mild solitude by commenting,

“You know, I’ve been thinking…it’s been such a long time since you’ve stayed in one place. You ought to enjoy the respite; your spear can wait for morning.” Balsa glanced up, spitting a thread away from her lips, having secured the metal tip to the handle as best she could without visiting a smithy,

“Although I have enjoyed this old mill, there’s no longer time for rest. We have to keep moving. I want us to be gone before dawn’s first light.”

“Still,” He muttered, brushing palms off against the kneecaps of his sage pants. Turning to glance sidelong at her for the first time since the glade beckoned his sensibilities, Tanda continued, “There’s no need to not appreciate this night. Here, have a bowl.” Nodding in gratitude, she accepted the hot meal from his hands. Yet a spark startled her the moment his touch lingered.

“Is something wrong?” The tenor of his voice stoked an unknown quivering in the pit of her stomach. Without warning, Balsa grew queasy,

“N-no. Nothing.” The faint sensation of a thumb brushing against her weathered knuckles caused her to be taken aback. The dire need to escape simmered up through her abdomen as her pulse quickened upon the realization that his strong hand displayed an earnest sincerity matching a tone which seemed to pronounce her name with such reverence and intentionality,

“Balsa…I-” Yet something about the light shining in his eyes stunned her so that she wretched her hand from his, ungracefully dismantling his confession by accidently upturning the bowl he had prepared. She turned away in haste. The dish fell and clattered against the iron vat before spreading its contents onto the floor, sticky and oozing into the hard-packed ground.

“I’ll make you another,” Tanda offered, his expression neutral as he rotated to scoop more porridge into a hollowed gourd. Ascending speedily, Balsa shook her head,

“I have to go.”

“Go?” The tanned individual asked perplexedly, “Go where?”

“I don’t know,” Balsa admitted, feeling cornered by his minor investigation. Exasperated by her antics, Tanda rolled his eyes good-naturedly and patted the log besides him,

“Please just sit and enjoy dinner with me.”

“I’ll be back soon…so hurry up and finish without me,” She answered coolly before storming off, the quip stinging more than Tanda’s pride as he dejectedly watched her frame melt into the adjacent marshland until his beloved was lost from sight.

 

* * *

 

Fronds barred her vision as Balsa pushed through the dense rice paddy field and into a shallow clearing molded by reeds. Her rapid departure allowed enough space to breathe and the ability to reflect upon what fleetingly transpired at the fire pit. A particular rhythm could be felt rising below her rose-colored tunic, the fabric parting in order for a clenched hand to steady the disobedient organ.

Sighing in defeat, the palm fell from her beating ribcage. Hand lingering at her side, Balsa unconsciously toyed with the fraying hemline. Serving as an effective distraction, the warrior noticed that a dampness had seeped into the cloth due to the smothering florae she had dashed through in order to evade the overwhelming sensation of Tanda’s gentle eyes. Those dark orbs seemed to have encased a certain level of autonomy, the sheen gazing kindly into her own without rebuff.

Ticking her tongue in annoyance, Balsa’s fingers gradually peeled grime from the white embroidered detailing of her garb flecked with mud. Although she cared little about appearances, Balsa admitted that her soiled clothing would have to be washed and wrung out before making the trek. Perfect, yet another task to add to the expanding list of required actions that she alone was responsible for.

Suddenly, the image of her companion’s bronzed face emerged across the surface of the slack water about her ankles. Shaking her head in frustration, the female bodyguard desired to banish his familiar features away. Yet her brain continued to circulate around the attributes of her loyal friend and ally. Tanda was always by her side, a man willing and able to assist her. Why not inquire if he would mind tending to her garments beneath the flow of the water mill as she finished accomplishing last minute preparations? The thought of asking for his aid abruptly jarred her actions, causing her knuckles to grip tightly to the edge of her woolen shift as a slight flush spread into her cheeks. Gritting her teeth to remedy the awkward feeling of embarrassed confusion, Balsa lifted her head to the night sky, taking a moment to gaze into the heavens in order to release pending tension.

The stars understood, twinkling compassion and serenity down upon the lone soul soaking in their ethereal beauty. Inhaling in relief, Balsa’s eyelids slowly opened. As she returned to a semblance of her prior-self, the aged combatant scanned the horizon, appreciating the stillness and the splendor reflected across the mirror-like pattern of terraced paddy fields glimmering beneath the milky solar system.

Now capable of facing her trustworthy partner without being harassed by that gnawing impression, Balsa decided she would return and finish the inviting meal by Tanda’s side. However, to her left, a creaking snap sounded. Pivoting, she spun to face the source from where the cracking of stems originated.

“You should have made certain to have slain me.” Out from the shadows a figure appeared, his bulky frame lost in the rolling haze of the swamp-like environment. Eyes adjusting with ease, thin brows alighted in shock upon recognizing the specter haunting the remote everglade.

“Karbo…y-you…but you’re dead,” Balsa stammered in disbelief as her former rival paced nearer, “I killed you.”

“Apparently not. Your pathetic blade only managed to swipe past a faulty defense, momentarily stunning this hyperventilating body which now stands before you unscathed.” A low, deep chuckle resounded throughout the bayou, the man pleased by the slight expression of uneasiness flickering across his quarry’s features,

“Hah, and you thought that you had killed me with a single stroke! And what’s more, you truly regretted the severance of your cherished vow. What was it again? Oh yes, I recall some such noble notion…swearing to never take another life. That shall prove to be yet another hindrance for you see, I intend to snuff your’s out by force.” Apprehension rooted itself, coiling at the back of her throat as Balsa’s hand subconsciously reached for her spear. Yet as luck would have it, in her haste to remove herself from Tanda’s declaration, she had abandoned her weapon. Biting her lip, Balsa sucked in aggravation as the disdainful ruffian circled behind her unprotected back,

“For what reason? We settled our dispute along that barren path months ago.” Inhaling, Balsa’s slackened fists flexed experimentally as the dark-haired man rounded into an arm’s length circumference, “Regardless of your intentions, I do not wish to kill you. Be gone.”

“Do not dare banish me away!” The intruder snarled, the giant spear borne falling heavy in his grip as a howl was released, “I stand alive for a single purpose Balsa; urged onwards to finish what you could not complete! My sheer abhorrence of your existence demands a resolution.” A white cloak swirled about the assassin whose eyes blazed with a claret pigment which seemed to bore into the female guardian who felt cornered despite the vast landscape sprawling between her and the shelter of camp.

“I shall finish you this night.” Karbo proclaimed, roaring as he dashed forward to lock arms with the woman who had expertly anticipated his attack. Forced to engage in hand-to-hand combat against the crazed man wielding a spear similar to her own prized possession, Balsa dodged beneath striking blows and parried his thrusts by rotating her wrists about the shaft. Misdirecting his aim proved to be Balsa’s salvation. Again and again her petite frame darted beneath slashing metal, the unapologetic blade desiring to find its purchase in still-breathing flesh.

The minor skirmish between these two formidable masters waged far longer than even Karbo expected despite experiencing transient glee at finding his nemesis defenseless. As she launched volleys to counter her opponent’s deadly objective, that thin blade ticked haphazardly closer to its target as the warrior’s pace began to slow. Although Balsa managed to stun him by cuffing his ears with a quick jab, it was apparent that the foreigner’s control was crumbling before the intruder’s overwhelming advantage.

As she grappled for leverage, Karbo happened to strike out a foot at his foe’s knee. Abruptly dislodged, Balsa was brought down by the surprise attack. Upon crashing into the ground, she twisted her torso in order to elude the crushing weight reigning down from above. This wise tactic provided an opportunity to pummel her adversary in the groin. The unforeseen blow loosened Karbo’s grip so that her hand was able to fly into his face. He yelped in pain as two fingers drove into his eye socket.

However her victory was short-lived. Karbo managed to exert his strength and mightier frame by consciously allowing her slight leeway by releasing one hand to pinion the one attempting to blind him. The action spurred her to rise, assuming that the assassin had accidently left his side exposed and vulnerable to attack. Yet this dynamic was precisely his aim. His wicked heart thumped louder with the knowledge that she had taken the bait, letting him angle upwards before launching out a fierce grip on her shoulders. In but a second, he had angled upwards only to come crashing down upon her so that her captured skull would crack harshly into the ground. Her vision, already shrouded by the blanket of night, grew dimmer.

Slumping out of consciousness with her face driven into the mud, a faint chanting drew her concentration upwards. Grunting in pain, Balsa tried to flip Karbo off of her. Alarm threaded itself to the forefront of her worries when she pieced together certain phrases from the recitation. Thrashing beneath him, Balsa gasped,

“No! Take my life instead!” Pausing in surprise, a jagged smirk contorted Karbo’s features as he leaned into her neck,

“Ah so you are indeed aware of this magic. What a delight. Believe me when I say that what you shall experience will surely be worse than death.” The light in his eyes radiated in the gloom, confirming that Karbo desired to destroy her in a way that was most cruel. Tilting her chin up with a single finger, the cloaked assassin intently studied the effects the charm was exacting upon his victim.

“Neither human nor tiger, that’s what you shall be,” Uttering a command, his tone emitted an air of finality, “Embrace your sordid nature and convulse until all that you cherish is dismantled. Only then, my loathed adversary, shall you awaken into a tumult of chaos and drudgery that only the gods may dispatch.” A scowl masked darker thoughts as Karbo released his hold, her chin pliantly falling to the ground. Froth consisting of bile and saliva foamed at the corners of her lips as garnet-stained eyes widened.

Vacantly, Balsa felt her mind slipping from a body paralyzed beneath the omnipresent curse. A Yakue charm was upon her, the ancient incantation gaining possession of her in rapid succession despite flailing against the infectious jinx. Demonic amethyst tendrils transcendently punctured her chest, coiling about her neck before penetrating and consuming opaque corneas. The completed spell transformed the stricken woman mentally into a beast, releasing the tiger raging within her void of consciousness and consumed by feral desire.

While watching her frame writhe until freezing in a state of paralysis, Karbo nodded in approval before pivoting to mount the nearest terrace. Confident of the strange, crimson luster encompassing once clear irises, the deranged man spat before draping white linen over his nose to conceal his identity only to then slink away into the mists from whence he came.

Silence reigned in the abandoned glade save the steady rise and fall of ragged breathing. Minutes pressed on past midnight as a pheasant-tailed jacana waded through rice lilies. Bypassing the comatose figure, the tawny charadrii cooed softly as its narrow bill scavenged for invertebrates floating on the water's surface. Regaining consciousness from the damp slough, Balsa arose from the quagmire sluggishly as though a millstone were strapped to her wrists. Groggily, she took to her feet. Meandering through the thick marsh, Balsa slowly headed back to the encampment with one intent purpose urging the completion of the vindictive charm wracking over her body and overriding her will.


	2. Faltering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am excited for you to discover where this is leading & hope you stay for the next portion of this fic! If you have any great hypotheses, shout them out in the comments :D If you are disappointed in the direction the course of this story will take in the next chapter please blame the recesses of my depraved mind.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own Seirei no Moribito nor am I profiting from this work of fiction in any manner.

        A saline mixture trailed down the nape of the man who was still absentmindedly hunched over the oozing pot of untouched porridge. He had not had a bite since Balsa’s disappearance. Sighing, the herbalist dismissed his bitterness as a consequence of the sweat-inducing heat, muggy September applying its severity to a mossy tunic bent on clinging to his skin.

        Wiping sweat from his brow, Tanda happened to glimpse Balsa’s form quietly slip from dense stalks and approach the pit. Turning abruptly in embarrassment, he busied himself by tapping off excess liquid from the ladle. After cleaning the wooden utensil on an available rag, he proceeded to add medicinal satchels into a tanned leather pouch all the while feeling the weight of her eyes upon his frame.

        Unable to withstand the overpowering tension rolling off his companion, Tanda scratched the back of his neck while sheepishly explaining,

        “I was foolish to think you could view me in such a way. The fault is mine. Please forget I mentioned anything.” Although maintaining a calm guise, his bluff folded beneath shot nerves that hammered through him upon not even receiving an acknowledgement. Ruffled, the man glanced upwards in order to survey her reaction. Expressionless. _As expected of a renowned mercenary_ , his inner thoughts conceded with slight disdain. However, Tanda noticed an uncharacteristic glint filter through her typically kind gaze. Such a veil of hatred loomed across her orbs, an observation which prompted him to redirect their discourse to a lighter, non-threatening subject.

        “I-I suppose we ought to finish dinner where we left off,” He immediately gazed down into the simmering vat of beige-tinged paste; no longer able to withstand the intensity emitted from the one commanding the prolonged silence. Tanda rambled onward, fetching unused bowls from the ledge besides him, “There won’t be any room to store it for our journey as the packs are practically overflowing. So why not try another bowl? I’m sure you’ll be able to stomach this one, now that we’ve cleared up _that_ former misunderstanding. Then we can adjourn for the night.” Scooping a portion into a hollowed gourd, he handed it to his companion with a half-lidded smile concealing pitted timidity,

        “After all, a good night’s sleep is in order if we’re to wake before the sun, right? Don’t worry, I’ll put the fire out once you’ve finished so go on ahead of me once you’re-ugh!”

        Trusting his lifelong friend, the shaman simply flowed with the sliding motion until he found himself lying prone against obtuse luggage. Startled yet composed, although confused as to why Balsa had suddenly pushed against him, Tanda curiously studied the upturned meal splattered onto the wooden platform beneath their feet. A misplaced grin tugged at his lips, the irony of experiencing déjà vu not lost on the arrested man. Surprisingly, he remained unfazed by the fact that the bowl had yet again been knocked from his hands.

        Silence, broken only by the rustling of wind and the occasional chirp of a suzumushi cricket, finally shattered once a shaken voice inquired,

        “Balsa? What’re you doing?” Instead of an answer, the woman’s tongue casually moistened her lips while surveying the man pinned against her side in a predatory manner. Uncomfortable, Tanda began to chuckle,

        “Enough games. You’ve had your fun. Now let me up so that I can-” Upon attempting to rise, he felt her grasp tighten about his wrists. Rotating his forearms, Tanda amusingly discovered he was unable to budge. Any humor found in his weakness soon dissolved when he noticed how serious Balsa’s countenance appeared, a solid mask that caused his brows to beseechingly demand clarification.

        Quietly the world spun as Tanda felt pressure impress his palms further into the bench as she leaned forward, her weight hovering over his torso constricted by powerful arms. Eyes widening, he observed the spearwielder’s lips part slightly, her mouth a hairsbreadth away from his own. Inhaling in shock, his breath was stolen by a pair of plush muscles which lightly brushed against his wind-chapped mouth.

        Folding into the implausible scenario, a rush of miraculous emotion exploded within his chest. Perhaps his confession was unexpected, prompting her to depart like a frightened deer only to return to the meadow of authenticity. Now the doe had blossomed into a stag prepared to stake her claim upon the man bowing to her initiative. Assuming this wondrous kiss established the pair as a couple, such an osculation surely legitimized his feelings. Lavished tenderness appeared to reciprocate the intentions and aspirations he had harbored since he first met the Kanbal woman all those seasons ago.

        Moments of bliss shifted to overlapping waves of delight with each brush of their lips. Basking in the glow that embodied the being bestowing such affection upon the enraptured devotee, heat emanated and rolled over Tanda in a roar until he could no longer endure the startling fulfillment of his dream. However, the vicious capture of his mouth suddenly turned those sweet affirmations into something more lewd. Overwhelmed, eyelids which had previously fluttered shut after the first movement against his lips, flared open again.

        A wet yet firm form inched its way between pursed lips; Balsa’s tongue having successfully invaded the once receptive mouth. The lithe muscle slithered past a partially closed aperture, the tip tapping the organ shying away. Light and rosy, a blush spread across tanned cheeks for never before had the sage experienced anything similar to this. The man’s virgin nature intact, in all regions and scope of the imagination, due to his devotion and single desire for the woman currently forcing herself upon him.

        Hesitative yet willing to allow her entry, Tanda swiftly began to shove the invader’s out as her tongue started to proceed further into his depths. Struggling beneath the ferocious kiss, Tanda shifted his wrists in order to grasp at her forearms. Still bound by her tight grip, he merely managed to gently budge so that she would become aware of his increasing discomfort. Contrarily, Balsa did not even notice or recognize his attempts, unaware of the hands palming against her for the pure focus was an animalistic drive to plow onwards.

        “Wait a minute, there’s no need to rush,” Tanda breathed lightly when he managed to break free, head awhirl, “I’ve been longing for this moment far longer than you know…so please, there’s no reason to prove yourself to me.” Yet his approval was not sought for Balsa renewed her attack, actually gripping the wisps splayed about the base of his neck to fully lock her lips to those of her reluctant partner.

        Securing his head in place, deft fingers caught in his hair tugged smartly, issuing a groan to bubble up from the shaman’s throat. Appreciatively, he allowed her intensity to rove through him, enabling his companion to sway their heated course further than he intended. Impassioned, a hand trailed experimentally upward to cup her cheek as she laced nimble fingers under the inky darkness of his scalp. Sighing in contentment, Tanda’s forgotten palm found its place along the curvature of her hip as Balsa conformed into the hollow of his chest. The tempo of their interlocked tongues increased significantly as the spear-wielder subtly began to gyrate against a leg she had signaled out to separate pale thighs.

        Responding well to the favorable presence brushing against his lower abdomen, a flash of his cherished one’s uncovered skin gleamed in the moonlight of a mind fogged by twilight. Guilt promptly admonished the holy man for allowing primal instincts to momentarily better him. Upon his consciousness’s accusation, his hand dropped from her face to graze down and still her shoulders.

        Feeling his return to stasis, a frown disturbed her brows, signaling her disapproval. Before Tanda could explain that his motionlessness was not a lack of interest but rather a form of respect, Balsa had spread her legs further in order to stride into his lean frame, vertically revolving on the expanse running from his kneecap to the hemline of his tunic. Such an uncharacteristic action caused him to firmly realize that she was not herself this night.

        Twisting away in embarrassment by the sheer imprudence of the matter, Tanda bitterly realized that he had concluded an erroneous assumption. The one he adored had not finally acknowledged his requited love for her by now venturing boldly forward in pursuit of him. Rather, Balsa was behaving too aggressively for her actions to be driven by affection. Additionally, he was put off by a weird spiritual energy emitting from the woman who continued to intensify the rutting against his thigh. Furthermore her silence disturbed him above all else for regardless of all that he had admitted, she had yet to utter a single word to consolidate the sediments seeping from his released heart.

        “I-I think that is quite enough.” Surging upwards out of indignation, Tanda managed to overpower her grip. Displacing her arms as politely as he could, the confused herbalist promptly huffed in relief while swiftly detaching himself from hands seeking his green robe.

        “We ought to join the world in sleep, after all the moon is waxing high above and tomorrow is on its way. I am still uncertain of your… _regards_ towards me. I am truly a fool if all of this were merely a fluke of emotion or perhaps a heat-induced dream due to this engulfing humidity! However, even if a dream, it is one I gladly shall revisit when my heart grows restless in spite of itself.” Kindly, he squeezed her palm before motioning towards the watermill,

        “Morning will refresh both our sensibilities. Until then, let’s get some rest.” Assured that Balsa understood, Tanda ducked beneath the creaking wooden frame of the tarnished barn house. A posture of retreat disallowed the oblivious man vision to a savage passion stirring within scarlet orbs, a hindrance which consequently masked the horrendous intent of the one trailing her quarry into the pitch.


End file.
